


Only The Winds

by xxdeejadoodlexx



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxdeejadoodlexx/pseuds/xxdeejadoodlexx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek howls and waits for the reply. There is always a reply-- Stiles <i>always</i> howls back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only The Winds

He’s somewhere on his property, that much he knows. Everything else, he’s entirely unsure of. He doesn’t sleep anymore, though the cause eludes him. His body is numb, his feet ache, his chest is heaving. His face feels wet but he doesn’t have the strength nor the will to stop and understand _why_. What he’s sure of, is his chest feels empty and no amount of running seems to numb it.

The moon hangs precarious in the sky and where it would normally be a comfort, the Lady Luna and her blessed gaze, it feels like she’s taunting him. He wants to yell, but his legs keep pushing him onward, the trees are but a blur as dashes by. His face shifts, then the mournful sound of a lost howl fills the empty stretch of the preserve.

He’s expecting an answer. There is _always_ an answer. The familiar call that leads him _home_. To the arms of a boy who mended his scars and salvaged a life of ashes and broken dreams into something worth fighting for, but as he stops and falls against the rough bark of an old, weathered tree, his heart plummets as the seconds stretch to minutes. Where is it? Why can’t he hear it? _He_ always howls back. He’s always there to lead Derek _home_.

He howls again, this time more distressed-- _Where is the reply? Where is it? Why can’t he hear it? Where is-- where is his..._

He barely catches himself as his legs finally give out, hands fisting tight to the dead and dry grass below. His shoulders hunch and his head falls to the ground. All he can do is force himself to breath. Something so basic, something so simple. He’s weak and his wolf-- his wolf is _weeping_ ; crying out in the most haunting howls that echo loud in his mind. He can’t hold them in, his body is wracked with a sudden guilt. His head lifts high and he bellows out, mimicking the cries of his wolf-- long and sorrowful until the sound fades from his chest and his lungs have nothing left to give.

Where is it? _Where is he?_

He collapses and curls into himself, but where he thought he would be feeling sadness, he’s quickly filled with a starved rage. The sharp, metallic stench of blood is overbearing. It lays thick like a greasy film on his tongue, but its wrong. It’s so _wrong_. He knows this smell. It’s not one of prey, its of something important. Something that is meant to be protected and cherished. His mouth goes dry and his brain throbs painfully. Why can’t he remember? Why is he here? _Where is the answering call?_

His ears twitch. Once-- twice...

Somewhere in the far distance, he hears it. He would know that sound from anywhere. He couldn’t deny its allure if he tried. That voice-- that familiar, infuriating, sarcastic, wonderful, safe, gorgeous voice he’s come to rely on- to crave and hold dear. It’s calling for him. There is always an answer. Derek knows this-- they’ve been meeting in these woods for months. This is _their_ space. This is _theirs_.

His body is filled with a strength he doubted he could muster just moments before-- intent with the resolve and compelling need to find _him_. He doesn’t feel the burn in his lungs anymore. He doesn’t feel the painful jabs each step sends through his bones. He can’t even feel the sharp cuts in his throat as he wildy howls back, mind set on the singularity of tracking down the source.

The forest thins and the moon’s glow shines its light upon him as he steps into a meadow. The dew covered grass reflects the moonlight, casting a beautiful sheen throughout the expanse, but Derek pays no mind to this. His eyes search the open plain desperately for the visage of his caller. He lifts his nose into the air, hoping to catch the scent of him, but the blood-- _he’s covered in blood?_ \--is too pungent. His ears only pick up the soft sway of the grass; the distant patter of creatures stirring in the night and the lazy breeze that whispers by his face.

He’s about to yell out when he finally sees him. Standing across the meadow, in the shadows of the trees, he can make out his form. Tall and slim. Trim and lanky. Posture lax but inviting as one hand rests on the tree just beside him. Derek’s heart feels relief, because _he’s_ here. He’s okay. 

_Stiles is okay._

The smile that captures his lips is involuntary, but Stiles just seems to have that effect on him-- always has and forever will. He doesn’t even try to act suave, he builds up a run as Stiles walks out to meet him in the shimmering meadow. The only thing Derek wants is to hold him. He won’t be okay until Stiles is in his arms, where he knows he’s safe. Where he can feel him-- where he can smell him; to revel in the lulling beat of his erratic heart.

Only...

Only--

He vanishes. Derek was-- _Stiles was right there._ Not ten feet from him.

His body turns, jerking itself to look in all directions. This doesn’t make any sense. He was right there. Where-- _its impossible_. His head is pounding again. He can’t-- he can’t even concentrate. Why was he here again? What was he looking for?

_Stiles..._

He needs to get to _Stiles_. He has to-- he has to protect him. He has to _save_ him, before they--

He falls to his knees, body wracked and haggard. Weak and empty-- scraped and hollowed. He suddenly knows now why his face is wet-- streaming with tears. Why he’s covered in blood-- _Stiles’ blood_.

Because... _he remembers._

It’s _because--_ he couldn’t keep him safe.

Because _they_ got to him first.

Because Stiles isn’t really here. His lifeless and blood-soaked body is back in the loft, where Derek had found him days before-- mangled and clawed beyond recognition.

Because Stiles is dead and no matter how desperately he wants to hear the yearning call of him, it will never again reach his ears.

Because this forest isn’t _theirs_ anymore. It is only Derek’s and Derek’s alone.

Forsaken, with only the howls of the winds to remind him of someone he once had, but couldn't keep.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know. I don't write MCD shit, but this stupid [song](http://youtu.be/9eWewdTkghM) just keeps giving me the same image.


End file.
